


The Shovel Talk

by some_fantastic



Category: The Following
Genre: Gen, M/M, Shovel Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_fantastic/pseuds/some_fantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody's got to look after Mike. Why not his best friend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shovel Talk

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on [kink-following](http://kink-following.livejournal.com/754.html?thread=21746#t21746). Also I suck at titles.

They should have known Maggie was in on it. Freaking everybody was in on it. But, idiot that he was, Troy realized that fact too late. Next thing he knew, there was a knife in his throat. Higher brain functions started to shut down after that, so he held off on the heavy thinking. Then Maggie disappeared pretty quickly, and he went down hard. Ryan and Mike found him a little after that, and then Mike's hands were around his throat. There was so much blood...

Somehow he survived. He wasn't really sure exactly how he managed that one; the last thing Troy remembered was staring up at Mike, those big blue eyes looking back at him. They looked as scared as he felt. But he didn't die.

He woke up in the hospital three days later. Mike was still staring at him, but thankfully there was a hell of a lot less bleeding going on. He had also stress-eaten all of Troy's Jell-o, but was saved from any kind of lecture by the fact that getting stabbed in the throat kind of prevented Troy from speaking. Lucky bastard.

It took a hell of a lot of recovery time before he was even allowed back in the office. Even then, he knew he wouldn't be field-ready for a long time. Troy had resigned himself to a lot of paperwork. By the end of the first week, he almost wished he were back in the hospital. This whole situation was beyond messed up. At least Mike kept him entertained with Ryan stories. He didn't understand why everybody relied on Hardy so much, but hearing Mike gush was always entertaining. Kid had it bad.

Troy just didn't know how bad. Not until he made his way up to Mike's hotel room with a six pack and a bag of chips. There was a game on, and he planned on using Mike's couch to its fullest extent. Lounge time had begun. When he keyed his way into the room, however, he found the couch a little...occupied.

Was Mike even allowed to bring people back to the room? They were technically still working the case. Everything was checked out under the FBI name anyway. Troy stared at Mike's back, at the hands currently feeling up his ass. He wondered if he should say something. Should he leave?

"Um."

Mike froze. The hands slowly retreated. Troy stared, wondering exactly who had caught his friend's attention. Mike stood up, and so did the stranger. Only he wasn't as unfamiliar as Troy thought.

Ryan stood up behind Mike. His shirt was half unbuttoned, hair in disarray. The pair of them looked like a couple of high school kids who got caught making out under the bleachers. Troy had a moment of  _what the fuck_  before he made the connection. Ryan and  _Mike_? Mike  _Weston_? It was probably just like Hardy to hook up with his biggest cheerleader. Troy didn't know him all that well.

"Well this is awkward," Ryan said nonchalantly. Mike busied himself turning pink, and then red, and then an alarming shade of purple. Troy made sure to put his chips and the beer down in case he needed to perform some kind of surgery.

"So, uh..." He gestured vaguely, waving one hand. Ryan started buttoning his shirt. They had come to a standstill, and Troy didn't know exactly where that left him. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he had walking in on Mike making out with Ryan Hardy.  _Don't play well with others_  Ryan motherfucking Hardy.

Was he just fucking with Mike? That would explain a lot. Troy wasn't exactly sure, but he figured he should say something, just in case.

"So you and Mike, huh?" Troy tilted his head, trying to look casual. Ryan walked past him to pick up his shoes. Isolation. Excellent.

"More or less." He stepped closer to Ryan, grabbing his collar and shaking him. Ryan dropped his shoe, looking affronted. Troy didn't let up, knowing that the key was to be firm. He had never done this before. What if he messed up? He figured he should just keep going with it. Quitting now would mean bad things.

"No, not 'more or less'. I want a real answer." Ryan was such a cop-out. Probably still hung up on Claire Matthews. Troy wouldn't have been surprised to hear that. Mike might be, though, and that just couldn't happen. He was such a nice kid. Troy knew what it felt like to have your heart broken. If he could keep his friend from that, well, all the better for the both of them. 

"Sure," Ryan said quickly. "Fine. Me and him. What the hell do you want me to call it? Why are you doing this?" That one should have been obvious. Troy owed Mike a huge favour. If he could start by repaying him this way, he sure as hell would. 

"I know you don't play well with others, or whatever your file says, because I really don't give a shit." Troy tapped Ryan's chest, pushing him backwards. "That kid is the sweetest guy I know. You treat him right and he will bend over backwards trying to keep you happy. He saved my life, and I can't even begin to describe what I owe him. So listen to this. I know your type. I know you're a jaded old lunatic who's two drinks away from a heart attack. And I can tell you that if you do anything,  _anything_  to hurt Mike, there is not a rock in the world you can hide under. Because I will find you. And I will beat your middle-aged ass to death with a shovel. Do you understand me?"

Ryan nodded meekly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Satisfied he had intimidated Ryan into behaving, Troy turned around to retrieve his chips. He found Mike staring, open mouthed, a look of horror on his face. His cheeks were quickly turning red. Again.

"What?"

"You...you're...you just..." He gestured furiously, unable to put it into words. Troy could practically  _hear_  Ryan being smug behind him. "You!"

"What about me? You know your parents are done with you, and you hate most of your brothers. Who else do you have to look out for you?" Troy pushed past Mike and planted himself on the now-unoccupied couch, searching for the remote. Ryan gestured towards the door, unable to keep a tiny smile off his face.

"I'm just gonna go now..." He beat a hasty retreat, leaving a sputtering Mike alone with Troy. With a huff, Mike threw himself down on the couch, crossing his arms. Troy glanced over at him, then wordlessly offered the bag of chips. Mike took a handful, crunching resentfully.

"You're an asshole." Troy ignored the tone, flicking on the TV and finding his football game. He put his feet up on the coffee table, leaning back.

"Maybe. Are you guys going steady?"

"We're not twelve, Troy."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You gotten naked yet?" Mike blushed harder, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. Troy took that as a yes. As Mike opened a beer, Troy smiled. He was happy for his friend, really. Even though Ryan was a washed-up alcoholic with a heart problem, he was Mike's hero. That had to be making him ten kinds of happy.

"For the record, I'm still mad at you."

"I can live with that."


End file.
